It’s my eleventh Mother’s Day, but I still think of it as my own mom’s holiday. This morning, looking into her fridge, I’m laughing that my mother has purchased seven different kinds of milk for the ten people currently in her house.

There’s something so perfectly, metaphorically, motherly about my mom’s urge to provide milk — even the grocery store kind, even milk from a coconut, it’s still Mom Giving Milk. Even more, she gets us each the kind we like and need, just ‘cause. It’s not how everyone demonstrates what mothering is to them, but it’s beautiful, and beautifully hers.